


Life is Just a Game, but it's One that I don't Mind Playing

by The_Lamp



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Businessman!Levi, Cheating, Depression, Eruren Week, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Content, break ups, but it was originally for eruren week on tumblr, fluff at the end, i actually did this for a paper in english class, idk how to tag, lol whoops!, my one true pairing after all, painter!eren, photographer!eren, yoga trainer!erwin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lamp/pseuds/The_Lamp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting out of a poisonous relationship with his fiance; Eren stumbles on a curb. Here enters one handsome man who helps stabilize Eren's form, and to carry the heavy object in Eren's hands into the apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life is Just a Game, but it's One that I don't Mind Playing

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this is originally for Eruere week on Tumblr but I am in the middle of moving so I won't make it in time so here is my tribute to this wonderful couple.  
> Day 7: Free Space: http://eruereweek.tumblr.com/post/82415380194/art-source-eruere-week-a-week-dedicated-to  
> (That's the link to the prompts)  
> ENJOY THE READ!

I don't know what hurt me the most. Knowing that he deliberately tore down the walls that he had built up, or that I just let him step all over me like I was nothing. From small steps that led to leaps high up in the air, I let out an uproar of agony in silence. I knelt between the bed and the wall, twisted my hands in my hair, and silently sobbed. It's too good to be true, I knew he would come in here after work, take one look at me and spit on the ground that was just inches away from my cold, bare feet. He had told me to take my stuff and leave, to never come back and delete his number because he'll be changing it. I wasn't good enough for him. Even if I cleaned to his immaculate standards, cooked just the right meals and used those weird and bizarre seasoning that I just happened to stumble upon one way or another. We weren't unhappy before, in fact we led to a successful love life, in the beginning.  
We had met back in community college; he had been my desk partner for our mathematics class. I was taking a minor in business and a major in art while he took a major in business. He had a hope on starting a business, a successful one; and he did. We had our first date a couple months later at a small cafe that featured one of the best dessert crepes that I have ever had the privilege of tasting. He had a standard black coffee with one cream and one sugar cube. Despite popular belief, he actually liked sweets, well, not too sweet things, just on the brink of dark chocolate I would say. This was good because I adored dark chocolate and constantly ate it whenever I had chosen to buy one. I graduated that year and he went ahead to start his own business, we were still dating and haven't had sex yet. That all changed when he opened up a clothing line across town in a rundown factory that he asked me to help him remodel. Later that week when we had successfully completed rebuilding the factory to his standards I celebrated with him. I offered myself to him, and he took it as an invitation, I allowed him to because that's what I wanted. That month I took a class in photography, I was trying a new line of art work. We were so happy together. We were together for almost two years, but months later when his company received numerous sponsors he had to expand his company. The boyfriend I once knew had asked me to photograph for him; he had started a modeling agency after adding on to our remade factory. It went downhill from there. He was power hungry, striving for victory, to be on top, to be number 1.  
I didn't see the signs of abuse, I thought he was conveying his love through sending me gifts instead of seeing me, I didn't know that I would make him look bad; I didn't know that the reason why he proposed to was so that people that tried to court him would stop after seeing his ring. I moved in with him, I started to do housework and ignored the itching feeling of picking up a pencil or my camera to take a picture and draw what I used to see. I ignored my undying urge to indulge myself with the reason why I went to college. He came home at the perfect time, right on the dot at six o'clock for an entire year. This is three years, bordering four years that we have been together. We had never skipped an anniversary, not ever. Our fourth year anniversary was a disaster though; he had went to a party with some of his coworkers instead of coming straight home for our celebration; I had cooked up a feast, bread sticks, and homemade spaghetti that had mushrooms, onions, diced tomatoes, and basil on top. That's how he liked it. I even picked out a bouquet of flowers and lit some candles to set the mood. I waited for hours, I had already eaten my share and cleaned up the dishes when it reached ten o'clock at night, I tucked myself in bed that night, no body to snuggle into and no heat to look forward too. I had sighed and cried myself to sleep because I knew he wouldn't come home tonight. I yelled at him that morning, only to have him retaliate back and actually slap me; I looked at him through blurry eyes, cupping my cheek. I had pleaded my apologies to him; he was still staring at his hand with wide eyes and mouth agape. I told him that I would never yell at him again, he clenched his hand, I remember, and then stormed out of the house having felt enough guilt. I smoked an entire pack of cigarettes that night waiting for him. I sent him countless texts to say I forgave him and that he should get home, left voice mails in his inbox because he wouldn't answer his phone, I wrapped myself in a blanket on the couch that night, worried sick.  
I woke up that morning to the smell of bacon and eggs that were half way burnt. A look of guilt plastered on his usually hard face. I kissed him on the lips and hugged him. A year later he turned stone cold, he kept on telling me that he would be late in the office, that he had unfinished business and that I shouldn't wait on him to come home and instead make a dinner for one. That kept happening, but one night I stayed up past the usual time I would be asleep, I faked being asleep on the couch and caught the whiff of his stench before he headed to the shower. I closed my eyes in agony and went to bed for real this time.  
I didn't know what to do, I kept quiet about it, I secluded myself, and I pressed into a shell of misery, backing away from my formal glory. I couldn't handle the stress so I went to a specialist, the doctor had me take a test and he told me that I am diagnosed with depression, I knew it wouldn't take long for that to happen. My Father had it, my Mother had it, and it was genetics. I didn't dare talk about that to my fiancé, I had no need to.  
That was half a year ago, five and a half years of being with me, of me being with him. I opted out; I called him during work hours since that was the only time he would actually pick up his cellphone, I asked him through the telephone to come home early tonight because we needed a serious talk. He had accepted and hung up telling me that the latest was going to be eight o'clock.  
At exactly the designated time he was supposed to be home I heard the door open. I was sitting at our kitchen table with red, blotchy eyes and a runny nose. He hissed in disgust and handed me a new tissue.  
He had chosen to speak before me, “this isn't working out,” my lips had quivered at his words.  
“I know.”  
He looked at me sorrowfully, “I'm sorry.”  
I chose that moment to actually look at him with my tearful eyes, “but you’re not. If you were, you wouldn't have slept with someone else.” I remembered his facial features contort in stagnant shame. He had taken a step back and averted his eyes away from mine.  
He didn't speak for a while, and that was just fine. “... How long did you know?”  
I stared blankly at him with dead eyes. “For the past six months, Levi.” His stone face showed a new emotion that I didn't have the chance to see for a long time, I knew he whispered a 'that long?' but nothing else. “Did you know that I take depression pills? Or that you missed my birthday for two years in a row? Did you know that for the past two years I went to bed on my own and that I clean this house, I feed myself with the money I earn, that I bathe myself and take care of all my needs without you?” He was speechless as I named off all the things he missed out on. “You don't know me anymore, Levi. I haven't even drawn, let alone picked up a pencil to draw with for the past couple years because I've been neglected.” the dark haired male narrowed his eyes at the floor ahead of him, hands twitching ever so often. “I bet you don't even know what my favorite dish is anymore.”  
That has been the last straw because before I knew it he had slammed his calloused hands on the wooden table and cried out an, “Enough! I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense!”  
I didn't flinch and instead replied coldly, “but you do need to hear this, Levi. You really do.” I looked at him and he flinched at the dead stare that I directed at him. I breathed through my nose and sighed loudly, “You know what? I'm sick and tired of falling asleep without you next to me; I’m sick and tired of waking up in the middle of the night and seeing you come into our bedroom stinking of cheap cologne and aftermath sex. I'm sick and tired of going into the living room to go to sleep for the rest of the night because I can't possibly fathom the thought of another person touching you in such lewd manners. I feel sick to my stomach just from thinking that I'm like a 99 cent hand-me-down store where you can just throw me there to be bought and then throw there again after some time. When was the last time we actually sat down and talked? When was the last time we had nice, elegant meal? When was the last time we connected as one?” I stood up from my seated posture and glowered down at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Answer me, Levi,” I commanded. “Answer me one thing. Do you love me?” I needed to know, I needed confirmation.  
Levi looked at me square in the eye, “I used to.” I sunk in my chair, hand resting on my face as I close my eyes and let out a shaken breath. I opened my eyes again and viewed the golden band that Levi purposed to me with. I slid it off and had it roll across the table to where Levi was.  
“You might need that then.” I stood up on shaking legs, he extended his hand to help me but I shot him down with a wave of my hand, “I'll be gone by tomorrow. You won't have to keep pretending to care anymore.”  
I didn't look back when he said the words that will plague me, “After tomorrow, don't ever come back, don't call me, don't talk to me, be gone by the time I'm off work tomorrow. Take your stuff and leave; I'll be changing my number too. I'll stay at a friend's house for tonight but by the time I am back at this apartment you better be gone.”  
I slumped against the hallway wall that held pictures of Levi and me. Our first time kissing was taken by a friend of ours and it hung on the wall right next to the one where we were building a snowman, then another one that had our friends together trying to make pies for thanksgiving. That was a disaster; I pulled out a bitter laugh before ignoring the rest of the pictures of happy memories and took off to our shared bedroom.  
I took out two suitcases. One for my clothes and the next for the rest of my stuff. I laid the clothing suitcase for tomorrow on the floor and instead focused on going to our bathroom across from our room. I grabbed my shampoo and conditioner and any other necessity that I needed. I tucked them away neatly in the small case on our queen sized bed. I zipped it shut. Next I took out my phone from our nightstand and called my sister. Of course she answered on the third ring, “Mikasa, I need a place to stay for a while...” I wait for her response, “until I get back on my feet. I'll tell you all about it when I'm settled in, don't worry.” I sniffled a little at the end and hung up. I picked up the suitcase and set it down by the bedroom door. I took my pants and shirt, making sure to turn off the light on the way to the bed. I jumped in, settling down right away. I closed my eyes and sighed in exhaustion; so much happened today.  
That morning everything came back at me, hitting me over and over again. I felt worthless, I felt sickened. I didn't want to be alive, I didn't want to exist, why do I continue living this pathetic life? I sobbed and clung to the wall next to me, he's kicking me out. We broke up, I'm all alone now. I wiped my tears from my eyes reaching for the nightstand that was pressing moments ago in my back; I opened the nightstand and dug for my prescription pills in a need. My hand found a bottle and I eagerly tugged at it, I ripped off the top and immaculately dropped one pill in my hand, I closed the lid again. My grip on my pill tightened when I stood up and dropped my bottle on the bed. I went to my kitchen and filled a glass full of water; I popped the single pill in my mouth and drank greedily from the glass, emptying the glass of the liquids. I swallowed my anti-depressant. Now that, that's out of the way I can continue the menial tasks of getting out of this suffocating apartment. I press the pad of my hand into the side of my face before wiping down with a tired sigh, my arm now resting at my side. I straighten my back while starting to walk towards my open bedroom, I picked up the suitcase that rested on the floor and plopped it on the bed then went to the dresser across the door. I slid four doors open and started to gather my undergarments first, packing them, next my shirts, then my pants, the last dresser door laid wide open.  
My camera looked back at me, I remember getting it. It was my 23rd birthday when Levi and I went out to celebrate on a date; he needed to get out of being a workaholic, so he saw it as an opportunity when my birthday came up. He had researched for the right park to go stargaze at and to share a picnic. It was nice; we held hands and kissed to our heart's content. He had sat up, offered me a smile, and then leaned down to plant a kiss on my forehead as he dug in the picnic basket beside himself. I had sat up too when curiosity got the best of me. He held the present behind himself. “Come on, Levi! What do you have!?” to which he replied with, “be patient my love. Now close your eyes and hold out your hands.” I did as I was told; closing my eyes tight and then I felt it. “You can open your eyes now,” he had said after kissing both of my closed eyelids, I looked down at my hands and there was a bright, red package. I ripped it open, gasping. “You got me a camera!?” I put it down and jumped him, mashing our lips together. He laughed and wrapped his arms around my waist, bringing me closer.  
I blinked away the memories, I don't need to think of those right now; I have packing to do. I got back to work, deciding to kick the drawer shut, leaving my first and only camera behind. My hands held the zipper on my suitcase, zipping it shut. My melancholic thoughts rung out when I sighed. Time to get out of here. As I was heading towards the front door I stopped. I glanced to the left, right there, on top of the island, is my kitchenaid. My baby. My love. My true love. I can't leave that behind; I don't know what he'll do to my baby! It's heavy though so I should come back and get it. That TV was mine too, and the blue-ray, and X-box, plus half the games. The bookcase is also mine, and so are all the spices. I'm going to need to rent a storage unit for my stuff. What else is mine? The food is definitely mine, Levi doesn't eat anything so it should be good to take that too, the towels, bed, and couch is his; but the bedding is mine. Same with all the pillows. I'm going to need a few rounds of coming back and forth.  
I did just that, my TV fit perfectly in Mikasa's living room; turns out she was actually very ecstatic about having a bigger TV in the living room. Through trial and error we had set up her guestroom into my room, I had my bookshelf in there and my fair share of books and DVDs and video-games in there too to fill up the extra space in my fairly large bookcase that once held all of Levi's books. We had filled her empty fridge with all the food that I carried in boxes from Levi's lone apartment; we had also labeled my spices so that when I move out it won't be confused with her spices. Mikasa and I also converged her living room TV and into my room almost at once. We are almost done; all that's left is the kitchenaid in my car. That is when I told her that all’s done and I won't need her help. I let out a grunt when the large kitchen item smacked against my chest. I heaved out a pant, making my way out of the parking lot and to the apartment doors.  
“It’s okay baby, you're the last item I need. If I didn't have you, I would be nothing.” It was true, it may be an old, yellow kitchenaid that has the handle to let it lock in place broken, it's still very precious to me. Having been my mother's first and only kitchenaid I would never trade it for any other memento than this. After all, she used to batter her cookie dough with this beast.  
I stumbled on the curb of the sidewalk when a large hand helped me steady myself. “Watch out there. You might hurt yourself and your valuable.”  
I looked up at the hand's owner, a gentlemanly smile, nice, cobalt eyes, finely plucked eyebrows, thin lips, chiseled chin, and gorgeous blond hair. I blinked rapidly and stammered a, “Thank you.” I had also given him a dazzling, small smile that showed a small bit of teeth.  
The handsome stranger removed his hand and instead reached for the kitchenaid. “Here let me help you with that, it looks quite heavy,” his voice sounded sweet, fruity, and very steady.  
I blushed a little, “Ah, no. That's very kind of you, but I got it,” I say, trying to do the polite thing. It won't be right if I let him do all the work in carrying my tool.  
The man right next to me plucked the yellow monster out of my hands and balanced it like it was nothing. Wow, he's pretty strong. “I insist. Now which apartment are you in?”  
I didn't really want to say anything at first but when we started walking through the door and he stopped in front of both two staircases that go up and down. I croaked, “Um, apartment 206...”  
His bright blue eyes sparkled with joy, “That's fantastic! My apartment is 204.” His smile broadened considerably since the time he helped me stable myself. He paused in the middle of the stairs that we were treading, “your sister is Mikasa, right?”  
I blinked at him a little before timidly nodding an affirmative. “Yeah, how did you know?” I shyly smiled at him.  
“She helped me set up a fundraiser for the homeless awhile back.” I tucked that piece of information in my head. “Plus, she runs a yoga class that's just parallel to my own. Your sister is quite remarkable.” I laugh a little.  
“She really is; you should see her in action some time. Mikasa packs a quite a punch.” We stop in front of a door. “Well, this is my stop. If you don't mind I would like my kitchenaid back,” I offer my hands to the yellow monstrosity. He nods while handing me the baking tool.  
As I steadied my memento I forgot that he spoke up, “let me get the door for you.” Once the kitchenaid settled itself against my lean chest I tiptoed inside the empty living area.  
It was a spacious apartment with an open kitchen that connected to the living room and a dining area right in the corner. A hallway situated itself right next to the kitchen; that hallway leads to the one bathroom and two bedrooms that are currently being occupied by Mikasa and me. It felt really homely.  
I went to the island that separated the kitchen and the living room; I set the kitchenaid down on top of the fake marble counter top. I turned to the stranger that lingered in my doorway. I walked towards him with my hands in my pocket, “Thank you.”  
“No problem, now I don't think we properly introduced. I'm Erwin, your next door neighbor.” That's when he stuck out his large and burly hand for me to shake. I look up at him as I shook his hand firmly.  
“It's nice to meet you, Erwin.”  
It was nighttime when Mikasa walked through the door with a stack of papers in her hands. She piped up when she plopped down on the brown couch, “Mm, what's cooking?” the black haired female moaned.  
I stirred whatever content were in the pan with the plastic spoon. “Food.”  
“I know that, but what kind?”  
“The kind you eat.”  
“But what kind do we eat?”  
“The kind that will fill you up.”  
“And what's that kind?”  
“That's the kind that will give you a great poop.”  
Sometimes, it's really fun when you're the chef; because of that I got to hear a huff and a shuffle of clothing before lavender invaded my nostrils. She peeked from my side.  
“You could have told me that you were making some chicken noodle soup. That way I wouldn't have bugged you.” I chuckled at her childish pout before I poked her in the nose.  
“Now what fun would that have been? None; I love teasing you.” I scooped up a bit of broth with a piece of chicken and celery. “Now open up. I want you to taste this in case it needs anything.” My sister obeyed, I poured the soup in her mouth after blowing it. My hand was beneath her chin in case she spilled some. “How is it?”  
I spotted a dust of red coating her cheeks, “It's delicious but it could use a little more salt, other than that I give you top scores.” Her nimble fingers poked my side playfully.  
“Yeah, I thought so too.” That's exactly what I did; I opened up the spice cupboard and grabbed the designated spice that I needed. I sprinkled some in before stirring wistfully. I hummed a tune, “You know. I've never been this happy for a long time,” I told her mindlessly while she worked stereo system to connect to her phone. I heard a song pop up minutes later, I depicted that Mikasa is using Pandora Radio Stations. Some band that I knew was playing on the station she chose.  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, without Levi I feel really good and kind of free. He was really the jealous type and never really allowed me to have a lot of fun...” It never really crossed my mind that that was what he was actually doing. Making me stay, but I got so accustomed to it that I didn't realize the door was open for me to take. I turned off the burner on the stove. “Soup is done.” I grabbed two bowls one for Mikasa, and another for me. I scooped up some for me while she did the same for herself. I grabbed two spoons while we sat at the small table.  
Mikasa ate a little of her fair share of soup, I only know that she's trying to figure out what to say by the small tap she's making with the heel of her socked feet. I picked up my dormant spoon, plunged it into the broth abyss, then plunged it into my mouth. The broth, chicken, celery, spices, and carats worked wonders on my taste buds. It felt like pure heaven has raided my mouth.  
“I never did like that short stack. It was the look in his eye that really caught me off guard.” I looked at her to see her dark eyes flicker. I didn't know what to say, what look? “It was like... He wasn't all the way there, that he was just faking it... I don't really know how to explain it to my abilities but you get the gist of it, at least.” Now that Mikasa mentioned it, it's not too farfetched. He really wasn't all the way there.  
I needed to change the topic, and so I did. “I met someone today. He was really friendly and helped me with Mom's old kitchenaid.” I saw her perk up with a mouthful of soup, and she urged me onward with a wave of her shiny spoon. “His name is Erwin.”  
Mikasa smiled, “I like Erwin. He's nice.” That was all for the night. There wasn't much to say anymore so I quickly worked on finishing my bowl of soup.  
To say that I missed Levi is an understatement. It was bad. For the next couple weeks I had hardly slept, thoughts of killing myself went rampage inside my mind, and I wasn't going outside. So when Mikasa offered to sign me up for a yoga class, I took it as an opportunity to get myself in gear and work myself to stay focused and concentrate on the task of getting over Levi. Tomorrow is the day where I would follow Mikasa to the gym for my session of Yoga. She won't be teaching my class, in fact, she told me that the person that will be teaching the class is a good friend of hers. I willed myself to breathe, and then exhale that breath. Tomorrow I will finally take control of my life.

When I stepped in the building, Mikasa signed me in and told me that in an hour she will come check on me after her work out. I bid her off when I made my way to the Yoga department area.  
To say I was surprised to find the mysterious instructor to be Erwin is an understatement. He is clad in a simple outfit of spandex. Both he and I were quite shocked to see each other.  
“Erwin?”  
“Eren?”  
The class went smoothly by the way. There was a couple problems with my stances but with Erwin's calm and collected voice instruct on what to do kept me at rest. I closed my eyes as I started to raise my leg in the air as he instructed, then my leg down. Stretch to the floor, shake it off, and then get a water break. We're done for the day.  
I wasn't really paying attention when I squirted water inside my cotton-mouth. So when Mikasa came over tapping me on the shoulder it gave me quite a startle. “H-huh!?” I settled down.  
“So... How did it go?” she questioned me. I shrugged.  
“It didn't go as bad as I thought it would be. I might even do this again; maybe even regularly if the second lesson goes well.”  
A different voice cut through our conversation, “That's good. It's nice to see you again, Eren.”  
“Likewise, Erwin.”  
That's the start of our odd relationship; with me almost breaking my baby on the cement, and him teaching the yoga class that Mikasa suggested for me. I wonder what other adventure we'll get ourselves into.  
The next time we decided to meet up, more like run into each other, again. Is when my car broke down at a gas station a couple miles out of town. Why was I out there, you ask? It’s because I was on my way to collect and deliver money and a painter for a commission that I started to do again. I felt happier, I felt more alive, and less constricted. I didn’t need to wait, I didn’t need to clean everything, I didn’t need to do anything besides help pay for bills, look for a new apartment, cook, and start my painting career again.  
I loved the feel of wood between my fingers, of me splattering sticky residue on a whitewashed canvas, or the paint that just persistently clung underneath my fingernails. I loved it; so when my car broke down in the sweltering heat with nothing but an old man controlling the cash register, I almost lost it.  
That was before I seen a new car pull up and a strange man exit his vehicle that I decided that that moment would be a good time to head in the gas station. That was before I seen the man’s face of course. He had spoken first, so when blue eyes met mine, I was on the verge of dancing like I was one of the dancers on Dancing with the Stars.  
He asked what was wrong, and I pointed to the hood of my car, where smoke bellowed out like a chimney. He nodded and set to work on calling a tow-truck to come and fix it.  
We waited an hour, not speaking a word to each other. After that hour, he spoke. “Where are you heading?”  
I looked to him from my side of the curb and answered with my voice even, “I was going to the neighboring state to deliver a painting.”  
He perked up after what I said, “Really, whose painting was it?”  
I twiddled my thumbs. “I painted it,” I say quietly. I didn’t really like to expose myself as a painter unless it was absolutely necessary. This situation was inevitable thought, so I had no choice of speaking though. It’s not like I didn’t what to though, I’m a little self-conscious of my work. I only indulge in selling my paintings for money, that’s all. If I didn’t need to pay my bills, or my taxes; I wouldn’t sell a single painting.  
When he asked if he could see it I sputtered and made an excuse that I really shouldn’t and that it was private. Of course he understood, Erwin is very understanding when it came to privacy.  
“Do you want me to drive you, then?”  
I smiled gratefully, “that’d be wonderful! Thank you so much, Erwin.”  
Soon enough, the tow-truck rolled in. It cost money for the expenses, but lucky for me, but unlucky for me, Erwin paid the man the money that was needed. I took my painting out of my truck, and stuffed it in the back seat of Erwin’s smaller vehicle. I situated myself in the passenger’s seat when he opened his side door and plopped his butt on the leather seats. He started the engine and drove on the interstate.  
“Where is it?”  
“It’s in a small town called Trost, it’s in Sina.”  
It was about a 45 minute drive, but we made it. I directed him to where my client was staying at; I unbuckled my seat then grabbed my painting before sauntering up the walkway to the big house. I knocked on the door; a petite woman with auburn hair answered my knocking.  
“Petra Ral?” Her smile blinded me.  
30 minutes of tea, cookies, and negotiating with her husband Oluo lead me to gaining $750 dollars. I’m not that upset. That’s quite a bit of money for one painting. It’s not even that great, if I’m being fair. Not great in my eyes. Then again, every piece I draw, paint, or sculpt never end up the way I want them to be. But I can’t be snobby about it since material isn’t very cheap.  
“How was it?”  
“The transaction went fine; I earned a lot of money.”  
“That’s good.”  
Erwin and me stop talking, focusing on the passing buildings and trees.  
Our next meeting ended up at a local diner, he had asked me out on a date two months after my breakup and I felt very jubilant about going. Mikasa dressed me up in simple clothing, but the major thing she ended up doing is fixing my untamable hair. The date was perfect, the wine that was served here was fantastic, the vintage chairs and food was splendid and I ended up having a great time. We laughed, we giggled, and he reminisced the past.  
I ended up telling him about Levi, and how he was an ungrateful cheater that needs help. Erwin took my hand and rubbed it to counsel me through the pain of telling him the heartbreak I went through.  
“It must’ve been terrible; but that’s in the past and I’m so proud of you for overcoming what you’ve been through and instead looked up to the future.” I had smiled and cried. I begged Erwin to not go away, even if this doesn’t work out let’s still be friends. I gave me an endearing squint of the eyes and a small, real smile. When he walked me home that night I gave him my number and we kissed goodbye in between our doors.  
We had plenty more dates after that first one, and all of them all the more sweet. It took years to fully recuperate back to my old self; but it was worthwhile. I got to see the world in a new light, I got to adventure, and interrogate, and explore what I haven’t before, and I got to invest in new techniques, most of all; I got to feel love again. Erwin proposed to me on the night of my birthday. That day Mikasa threw an extravagant party for me; I only conclude that it was set up with the help of one Erwin Smith. I had cried in my hands in glee. We ate cake; I opened my presents, and when it was time for dinner with all my friends. He had opted to get on one knee, pull out a tiny, blue box and said, “Will you marry me?” I pulled him up and jumped in his arms screaming with joy. I had kissed him over and over again, ignoring all the catcalls and wolf whistles.  
Years from now a couple months after my thirty second birthday; Erwin and I went on our honeymoon. It was fantastic, we wine and dined to our heart’s content. His blond hair became mused in the bedroom, and there was a pool that we took advantage of at the hotel. Caribbean blue eyes had met cobalt blue eyes; this is my love. He is my life. He healed me in unexpected ways. Our separate worlds collided and made them orbit around each other in a tango. No one can separate us; because if one is away, the other is too. This was my love story. From an unhealthy relationship, to an unexpected love story that hitched after two months of knowing each other.  
End

**Author's Note:**

> *hides face* are people still reading this piece of shit? *uncovers face* Please respond to me... *curls in a ball again* oh god... this is so embarrassing...


End file.
